


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by tmelange



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:23:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmelange/pseuds/tmelange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce tries to extricate himself from Clark's amorous embrace with little success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2007.

Bruce stared at the ceiling, mentally marking the time. _Five minutes._ It would have been nice if he could have slept some before heading out on patrol, but he could never actually _sleep_ with Clark in his bed. Yet, even a few wakeful hours by Clark’s side after their usual amorous workout managed to do more for his energy level and state of mind than double the number of nightmare-infested hours spent dead to the world.

He didn’t necessarily think this development was a good thing.

 _Nine o’clock._ He tensed, preparing to push back the blankets, bracing himself for the bite of cold air against naked skin as he moved from the bed to the bathroom. Noticing how Clark’s breathing changed, almost imperceptibly, and how the arm around his waist slightly tightened in anticipation of that first move.

“Clark, I have to go.”

A groan. “It’s too cold.”

“The Batsuit is insulated.”

“It’s snowing.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Come here.” A shift, and a leg was draped over his own as Clark turned into him, effectively pinning him in place while the arm around his waist pulled him closer.

Bruce tensed. “We have an agreement.” Their time together was the stuff of early evenings, the hours between 5 and 9 p.m., and the only deviation he allowed from his usual schedule was the dinner they often skipped so they could have more time alone to do all of the things that had somehow become more important than food. But his discipline, his dedication to his mission wasn’t something that could be skipped or sacrificed so he could spend more time with Clark.

“I’m not trying to interfere with you going out on patrol. I’m just saying…,” a hand moved to his stomach, thumb gently gliding across the flat expanse, circling his belly button, stroking, “…that there’s nothing going on that requires your attention—I checked.”

Bruce shifted, tested Clark’s resolve to keep him pinned, found that Clark wasn’t going to make it difficult—the leg over his own easily moved as he turned onto his side—but then Clark slid in behind him, and the hand that was gently caressing his stomach moved down.

“And, anyway,” Clark continued in a low voice close to his ear, “you put a team in place and they’re all out patrolling tonight. You’re redundant.”

 _Redundant?_

Bruce elbowed Clark in the stomach, threw back the covers, inhaled sharply as the air raised goose bumps on his skin, and levered himself up. He was about to put feet to floor when Clark grabbed him around the waist and pulled him back down. In less time than it took to blink, he was covered by Clark and the blankets and was blissfully warm once again.

Clark secured his hands over his head and leaned in, kissing him. Bruce considered turning this into a real fight, but, now, he was aroused, and something needed to be done about that anyway. The Batsuit was very restrictive.

“And…this is our—“

“Three months.” Bruce broke Clark’s hold on his hands, then placed them on Clark’s shoulders, pushing him down until Clark got the idea and disappeared below the covers. “We’ve been doing… _this_ …for three months.”

Clark’s voice was muffled. “Somehow, you make the most romantic things seems distinctly…unromantic,” he said, and Bruce inhaled sharply as Clark’s mouth found all his most sensitive spots, licking, sucking.

“Now you want romance.”

“I’ll settle for sex. Sex is a great substitute for romance, in my book. Lots of sex. Especially when it’s too cold to get out of bed.”

Fingers. “Clark…” Bruce lifted his hips and his release came sudden and hard.

Nine fifteen. This was great, but…

Clark was still mouthing his cock. Bruce buried his hands in his hair, about to tug and encourage Clark to lay off. “I have to go.”

Clark shimmied up his body, bringing his legs up as he moved. _“Bruce. Just let me—“_

“Clark— _dammit, Clark,_ I have to go…” But his objection ended with a sigh as Clark pushed into him, and it was another fifteen minutes before he could think straight.

Afterwards, they were a sweaty tangle of limbs. Bruce pushed at Clark to move him over, then folded his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling.

“This isn’t working.”

Clark rolled onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow. “It works for me. And it must be working for you because you’re still here.” Clark shrugged a shoulder. “We both know if you really wanted to go there’s nothing I could do to stop you… _unless_ …I tied you down…” Eyebrows waggled speculatively.

Bruce scowled, kicked at the one blanket that was tangled around his feet. “So I should just—what?—lay around in bed with you whenever it’s snowing. Or cold out. Or just chilly or raining. Maybe I should take a night off whenever it’s too hot out. Or when I just feel like it or don’t feel like it—"

“Stop.” Clark moved with that slight bit of super speed that made a person doubt his own perception, and captured his mouth in a deep kiss that had him half hard again.

Clark pulled away just enough to stare into his eyes. “Are you saying that this… _thing_ …we have is enough to change who you are? An occasional lazy weekend in bed is going to make you ignore the next unsolvable crime spree in your city? Come on, Bruce. I don’t think so. Besides, you know I wouldn’t ask you to stay if there was anything that needed your attention. We _are_ colleagues, after all. I _do_ understand the whole hero thing.”

A smile quirked the corner of Clark’s lips then took over his face entirely. That smile—it took him the rest of the way to full arousal.

Bruce pushed at Clark, tangled their legs and flipped him so he was on top. “So now you want the whole weekend.”

“You caught that.”

 _“You_ are hardly sly.”

“I may not be sly, but I must be damn good in bed to have The Batman of Gotham City worried about losing his focus—“

“That’s not what I said.”

“But that’s what you implied—“

“But it wasn’t what I _said.”_

Just then, Bruce caught a chill, a random bite of air that nipped his shoulder like a benediction. He shuddered, pulled the blankets up and over his head, and sank down the perfect landscape of Clark’s body.

 _finis_


End file.
